


You Cannot Leave the Past Behind

by kosciuszkovevo



Series: Voice of the Sky [1]
Category: Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim, Oblivion - Fandom, Skyrim
Genre: Blades, Cyrodiil, Dark Brotherhood - Freeform, Dragonborn - Freeform, Other, Skyrim - Freeform, Unwilling Hero, Voice of the Sky Series, dovakhiin, iseult carla - Freeform, skyrim fanfiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-04
Updated: 2016-12-04
Packaged: 2018-09-06 11:31:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8748943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kosciuszkovevo/pseuds/kosciuszkovevo
Summary: Breaking free from her family's grasp in the Imperial City, an Imperial races to find another life, but faces unprecedented consequences. Warning for gore, swears, and general violence.





	

 

    Iseult had never been into the Jerall Mountains her entire life- let alone even past the city of Bruma. But now as she tugged her blue cloak around her shoulders, she would be leaving the whole of Cyrodiil itself. The last couple of nights had been spent in frantic hurry- a hurry to find the swiftest way out of Cyrodiil and into Skyrim- Skyrim, a land of harsh weather and harsh folk. 

     She had heard at the inn in Bruma that Skyrim's winters, especially in one of the counties, called Dawnstar, was worse than Bruma sevenfold. She shivered, but pressed forward. It was Tirdas, one of the last days Second Seed- luckily it was spring and the mountainside was carpeted with wildflowers, not snow. Occasionally glancing over her shoulder to see if any Legion Ranger had followed her, Iseult kept up the pace as her humiliating memories lingered in the back of her mind.

    _Utter humiliation_. It was about a week earlier, that Iseult had departed from the Imperial City. It was at her elder sister Belacane's wedding-yes, of course it had to be at the wedding- where else could she take one last jab at Iseult? She was put on the spotlight- humiliated, chagrined by the elder Carla's harsh words and jeers. Even days later Iseult felt the burning heat of all eyes on her, searing into her skin like blades, hot from a smithy.

     So she had left. Left in the night, tired of being in everyone's shadow. The wedding was a catalyst- another ploy to improve her family's name, and the last straw for the youngest Carla. Iseult had finally had enough and took what she could- food from the wedding feast and snatching anything that might be of use. Sneaking out of the city itself proved to be an issue, at first the family brushed it off but when they realized Iseult didn't intend to ever return, they sent out a search party.

    But Iseult was stealthy. Iseult was keen, alert, and superior in silence. It was her one good trait- aside from marksmanship. But the Carlas, they were a family of mages, a family of good stock, but the Carlas had something to hide. Regardless, to her family she was no Carla.

     As she breathed in the crisp spring air, Iseult trudged through the mountain pass- it was small, not intended for large traffic. It began a ways behind a ruin from the Great War- called "Cloud Ruler Temple", which supposedly was the base for the last Septim during the Oblivion Crisis. The pass itself headed due north, and Iseult had high hopes it would carry her to Skyrim.

    She wasn't prepared to climb mountains however, as she looked down disdainfully at her clothes. They were simple clothes- Iseult was by no means extravagant, and blue. Iseult disliked blue, partly because it was Belacane's favorite color and the dress color for the wedding. Sighing, she adjusted her pack and walked on, as the sun loomed over her head, cold and bright.

_____________________________________________

 

     It had been several hours when Iseult saw the old, almost-ancient looking sign that showed a barely legible "Skyrim" on its wooden post. She had been making an efficient pace, and had reached the border before sundown.

     She was here. _Finally_ , she exhaled in relief as she proudly looked on, into the unknown reaches of the northern province. Reaching into her layered clothing, she withdrew a necklace, bearing the symbol of a dragon- the symbol of the Empire. She had it since childhood, finding it in a chest, locked away in the attic of their spacious home back in the Temple District. No one knew about the necklace, and she kept it for herself. But now she suddenly ripped it from her neck, breaking the chain and casting it into the snow, pent up fury being released simultaneously. The dragon-shaped necklace landed in the snow, and Iseult took a step forward over the border, towards the treeline.

     Now, Iseult would not only be leaving her family and her old life, but would now be leaving the Empire behind as well. She would be gone, never to be heard of again, no one could bring her back to Cyrodiil. As she strode towards the trees, something in her heart stopped her. She couldn't keep herself from turning around to the old post where the necklace lay.

     And yet, with all the bitterness and anger inside, she could not tear herself away from the amulet. As Iseult reached down to pick it up, she heard something echo from within Skyrim's wilderness.

     Voices. Shouting, screaming, battle cries resounding through the dense forest. Her heartbeat quickened- could it be the Imperial Rangers? She withdrew her dagger- a small thing, Iseult knew it would be hopeless to try and fight off a group with this dagger. She was quick- but the Rangers were professionally trained...

     Snatching the steel necklace from the ground, she bolted into the woods- towards the pursuers, yes, but the trees offered protection. They would run past her, and she could make her way out of harm's reach. Sprinting as fast as her legs could carry her, she gripped her cloak, so it wouldn't catch on anything.

     Around her, shapes became men and men became blurs- some wearing blue, and foreign looking armor. Others, Iseult realized, were the Imperial Legion- these were no Rangers, actual Legionnaires- and she realized this was a battle, they were not looking for her. All she had to do was make sure she could escape unscathed and-

     Iseult felt the ice scrape her face as she was brutally tackled into the snow, hearing it crunch beneath tremendous weight. Her whole face stung, and suddenly a massive Legionnaire loomed over her menacingly, and shouted, "I've got one of 'em! A scout, by the looks of her- Legate, over here!"

     She could not see very well- mostly because her face was being pushed into the snow onto its side, so she could only see out of the corner of her eyes. Another voice, equally intimidating, said, "Ah, another Stormcloak coward. They really think they can outsmart us, eh?" The captain was donned in full Imperial heavy armor, and roughly grabbed Iseult's face as the other Legionnaire got off of her. "It makes no difference, Marcus...They're going to the block all the same."

     She spat, the gob of phlegm barely missing Iseult's face. "Bind her," the captain ordered briskly, and added, "Make sure she doesn't try anything- if she does, I give you permission to end her miserable life."

     Forcibly brought to her feet, Iseult felt the thick rope chafe her wrists, and realized the dragon amulet was still clenched in her fist. Now, she wouldn't let it go. It had reassured her in times of crisis, and she knew damn well she'd need it now more than ever.


End file.
